


went broke believing that the simple should be hard

by cashewdani



Category: Disney RPF
Genre: F/M, Hangover, Underage Drinking, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cashewdani/pseuds/cashewdani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"How was the photoshoot?" Joe asks her, leaning back, dangling the beer between his legs. "I looked gorgeous, you know." "Given, yes," he says, smiling. Feeling the alcohol in his face. His hands. "Come over," he murmurs, already thinking how nice it would be to have her leaning against him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	went broke believing that the simple should be hard

When he gets home on Friday, he sees that Garbo restocked the fridge with beer. And he knows it was Garbo because there's a giant note taped to the case of Heineken announcing he's going to piss anyone's bed if they drink it. Joe's laughing about it and wondering whether he means with the person in it, or as a surprise, while he's trying to remember where they put the bottle opener after his mother found it in the silverware drawer and shot them all looks that were less than pleasant.

By the time Garbo gets home, Joe and Jack are already each four beers deep, the evidence clearly visible on the coffee table. "Oh, fuck you, guys! Seriously?!"

"Call Paris and tell her you blew all of her valentine's gift money on booze!" Joe yells back, taking a long drag from the bottle. Listening to Garbo thrash around in the kitchen. He's feeling light and buzzed, and happy he doesn't have to be anywhere until Sunday morning. And then it's just the beach with Dem, which is basically Disney orchestrating an awesome date on their dime. It's going to be a good weekend.

He can hear whatever Paramore song she's set as her ringtone this week from the dining room and shouts, "Garbo, you want to get that for me?"

"Jonas, you've got to be kidding!"

"Just do it. I'll replace your beer in August. You know, if my dad lets me."

Garbo tells him, "You're getting the coffee tomorrow. Because you know as well as I do you're never going to have to buy that beer." He picks up the phone, saying, "Demi, your boyfriend is a complete asshole, I hope you know," Garbo says, walking back into the room, holding a beer with a Hot Pockets box tucked under his arm. "Yeah, have a good night."

He chucks the phone at Joe. "Be careful!" Joe responds as the phone almost hits the floor instead of the sofa. "Hey, Dem, to what do I owe this lovely call?"

She laughs. "Oh my God, you're drunk aren't you? That's why Garbo's pissed!"

"I take offense to that, Demetria! I am in no way drunk. I'm maybe on my way there, but we've got awhile. And Garbo's pissed because he sucks." 

"Listen to him, Demi," Jack says a little louder than is necessary from the other end of the couch, and she's still giggling on the other end of the line.

"How was the photoshoot?" Joe asks her, leaning back, dangling the beer between his legs.

"I looked gorgeous, you know."

"Given, yes," he says, smiling. Feeling the alcohol in his face. His hands. "Come over," he murmurs, already thinking how nice it would be to have her leaning against him.

"It's late. And I haven't even eaten yet."

"Garbo will give you one of his Hot Pockets. I think they're pepperoni. And the Olympics! Dem, we've got to watch the Olympics!"

"Alright, for _an hour_ ," she tells him. Like she's serious about it.

He smirks. "The night."

"I'll give you an hour and a half. Maybe. If I'm not too tired."

"We'll talk about it when you get here," he says. Already knowing she's going to show up and ask for something else to wear. Try to catch up with them on the drinks. Probably fall asleep on him before the events have even finished for the night. "Just get here. Before Jack cooks your dinner for himself."

&&&&

Joe was right, and not just because he always has to be, he's not Nick, but because he knows her. The microwave hasn't even beeped yet and she's asking if that pair of sweats she likes is clean. Cracking open another beer.

He sits on his bed while she changes, watches her stand in front of his mirror in only her bra and his too big Penn State pants, taking off the layers of makeup they always put you in when you're taking HQ photos. Eventually, he can't stand it anymore, watching her wipe a cotton ball over her jaw and down her neck while he's on the other side of the room. Joe comes up behind her, sucking on her shoulder. Running his hands over her stomach and inside the waistband.

She leans back into him, putting her palm against the back of his neck and pulling him in closer. "You're so pretty," he tells her, enjoying how warm she is. The taste of her on his tongue. He feels the happy sigh she lets out all the way through him.

"I thought we were going to watch the Olympics?"

"They'll be on for hours," he says, kissing just underneath her earlobe. 

"Well, I'm still leaving before 11."

"Mmhmm," he hums, pressing his thumbs into the dents of hipbones. "We'll see."

She turns, and kisses him, mouth open and hot and hungry. Tasting like the cupcakes she brought from Sprinkles so Garbo wouldn't club him to death.

In the other room, Garbo and Jack start singing the national anthem, and she laughs. Let's him slip her bra strap down her arm.

&&&&

Later, they're still showing Short Track on NBC, and Garbo applauds when Joe emerges from the bedroom holding Demi's hand. She blushes, so bright red, and finishes her beer in three gulps, while Jack's saying he ate the Hot Pocket 20 minutes ago, he's sorry, it just smelled too good.

"You both need to start being a little bit nicer," Joe tells them, squeezing her hand. Trying to let her know it's okay and he's sorry they're treating her like shit. "I like her way more than either of you."

"Oh, come on! You love us," Jack says, pausing the race.

"Plus, who's going to provide you with food and drink?" Garbo asks, limbs looking all loose and splayed out where he's sitting on the floor.

"Alright, excellent points, all," Demi responds, "but none of you are going to do what I just did for him up against the dresser." She's still pink, all the way up to the tips of her ears, but she looks so proud of herself, and Joe can't help it that he bursts out laughing as his roommates whoop and holler, Jack getting off the sofa and displaying it to the two of them like it's the spoils of war.

Garbo high-fives her on her way to sit, handing her another beer. "You're going to need this, we're drinking whenever there's a hockey commercial with young children, someone falls, or America medals. And you know, of course whenever you just feel like it."

She curls in around Joe on the sofa, taking a sip of her drink, and Joe looks at the clock. It's already 11:06.

&&&&

The next morning, or maybe afternoon, Joe doesn't even really know for sure, Garbo's banging two pot lids together and poking Joe's ribs in between cymbals solos. 

"Oh my God, just do whatever he wants," Demi moans, rolling towards the wall, throwing an arm over her eyes. It seriously is too bright in here.

"You and Jack have got to do the coffee run. You, because of the beer and him because he puked in my bathroom last night."

"Don't we have coffee here?" Joe asks, rubbing at his forehead, already feeling his hangover kicking in.

"I want Starbucks. Don't you want Starbucks, Demi?"

"I want whatever will get you out of here," she says with so much aggravation in her voice that it makes Joe nervous for Garbo.

"Starbucks it is!" Garbo says, running out of the room and down the hall, in theory to repeat the procedure in Jack's room.

"Sorry, Dem. I'm so sorry," he says, kissing the back of her neck. Wanting to just snuggle into her and go back to sleep. Knowing it will only bring Garbo back in louder and more determined. "You want something hot or iced for Valentine's Day?"

"Hot, sweet, the usual," and he thinks she's smiling even if he can't see her face.

He throws on his glasses and whatever's lying closest, hoping it's stuff that he hasn't already worn this week. "Five minutes," he yells to Jack's bathroom door, as the sink rushes on the other side.

&&&&

If Joe thought his bedroom was bright, it is nothing compared to the outside world. Fuck, he has no idea why this is the one moment in history that he doesn't have sunglasses at his disposal. The headache he woke up with is now pounding all through his skull, and he wishes he'd showered. Feeling just tired and gross and like maybe stealing Garbo's beer was not the smartest thing he's ever done.

Jack in the passenger seat looks a little worse for wear too, and if it wasn't for how annoying Garbo can get, Joe would seriously be turning this car around. Especially when the photographers start coming out of the woodworks when he pulls into the lot. He should have made Jack drive.

They get in and out pretty fast, regardless, and after taking a sip of whatever he ordered, something mocha, he feels a little better.

Garbo's passed out when they get home, typical, and Joe resists the urge to just pour the drink all over him in bed because he'll have to just go out and get another one and probably wash the sheets.

Demi's sleeping again, breathing quietly into the pillow he'd been sleeping on before. There's an Eggo waffle on his nightstand with a heart drawn on it in syrup. He takes a picture of it on his phone and climbs back in next to her, still wearing his shoes, not even caring.

&&&&

Jack doesn't come out of his room all day, and Garbo must disappear to see Paris by the time Joe wakes up again. He plays with Demi's hair and listens to the quiet in the apartment, and he feels content. Still hungover, but happy underneath it.

Demi wakes up when he accidentally catches his pinkie on the curve of her ear. Stretches her whole self out. "How's the outside world?" she wants to know, turning to look at him.

"Bright. Filled with papparazzi."

"Sounds like Los Angeles or something." She yawns. "My coffee's cold, isn't it?"

"Yeah, probably. Sorry about that."

"Not your fault. Garbo's clearly, but not yours." She grabs his wrist and looks at his watch. "Ugh, I should get home."

"Should you, though?" Joe says. "Because I think you should stay here in bed with me and watch a movie."

"You mean you think we should fool around until we get hungry and then order takeout."

"Yeah, either of those is good, in my book," he says with a smirk, going back to playing with her hair. "But, you should probably shower. Regardless of what we're doing. You smell like a brewery."

"You are certainly one to talk, Joe. I think right now you have morning, coffee and booze breath."

"If I brush my teeth, can I convince you to shower with me?" He puts on his sincere face. "I'll even wash your back," Joe singsongs next.

She sits up, flipping her legs over the edge of the bed, and turning her neck to address him. "Please. I know the front of me is going to end up cleaner than it's ever been."

"I promise, no, in honor of the holiday. I'll be a gentleman." He kisses her forehead. "Meet me in there."

And she does. Let's him wash her back and her hair, and kiss her up against the cool, tile walls.


End file.
